Nymphomaniac Fantasia
by Relya Lestrange
Summary: As the story goes, Echo, a Nymph, one of the Oreads who lived in the mountains, used to talk and sing a lot. Her malicious aptitude aroused the fury of Hera, who punished her by taking away her voice, except in the repetition of the last syllable from the words addressed to her... Dedicated to Sedra, my first and only Bitchester. DISCLAIMER: The title is inspired by the onomymo
1. Prologue

_**''**__**Nymphomaniac Fantasia**__**''**_

**-PROLOGUE-**

The silence was complete, all around. It was barely possible to hear the sound of the wind rustling through the leafy trees, that were slowly swaying.

The sun was shining high in the sky, even if its rays penetrated hardly through the branches, lighting just spots of the ground below.

She turned the discolored pages of the book she held, slowly, enjoying the contact with the coarse, dusty paper.

_As the story goes, Echo, a Nymph, one of the Oreads who lived in the mountains, used to talk and sing a lot. Her malicious aptitude aroused the fury of Hera, who punished her by taking away her voice, except in the repetition of the last syllable from the words addressed to her._

Her hand shook a little. For a moment she stopped herself from reading, observing the mute words on the page. It was possibile to hear her breath, almost kept, before a new page was turned on.

_But the sad story of the Nymph wasn't over. It happened one day that she met the young Narcissus, a man of an incredible beauty, but, alas, pleased only with himself. Echo approached him, trying to show him her love..._

She turned a new page, fratically, and it seemed like she had stopped herself from breathing, so closely she followed the words, her eyes running along the page.

_...but the boy, who already despided every maiden around, seeing that dumb girl, he laughed, and chased her away. Echo, desperate, wandered along the mountains, pining away, until the only thing that remained, from her, was her voice, heard from a hidden cave, still moaning for her fate._

A tear fell on the page, wetting the bottom of the white paper in a perfect circle; then, she brusquely closed the book, that dropped on the ground, as she ran away, through the wood.


	2. Fugitive inspiration

**CHAPTER 1**

**FUGITIVE INSPIRATION**

The car was moving foward, speeding down the sundrenched road. The voices of the two brothers arguing were even louder than the motor's roar or the music coming out from the radio.

"Dean, I can't believe we really got lost!" the first of them said, crossing his arms exhasperated.

"Come on, Sammy, we are not properly _lost,_" the second one tried to be conciliatory.

"How would you define two people who haven't the slightest idea of where they are?" Sam replied, raising his eyebrowns.

"Well, if you put it like that..." Dean muttered, without stopping from examining the road in front of them, trying to keep his eyes skinned.

Nothing. Actually, the road ran along the middle of nothing. No towns, no houses, absolutely nothing.

"And I'm not surprised we boiled down to that, seen that last night you insist on getting back to travel, while you were drunk and you took random roads!" Sam kept going on, as he was overwhelmed with the absurdity of that situation.

"I needed to drive." Dean said as an answer, shrugging his shoulder, and wondering how much can one person could bear with such a pain in the neck.

"Yeah, because you need to kick up your heels after that girl left at mid-night when she found out you didn't have enough money to pay her, right?" His brother went on for him.

"So much the worse for her," Dean said more to himself than to Sam, shaking his head.

"...But in the meanwhile, we should have been at The Road House like two days ago, and we're still here!" Sam insisted irritated.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down.

"Let's not exaggerate, Sammy, we're not so late, and... oh, look!" He said with a grin. In front of them two or three houses peeped out and now something like a little village was showing out. "Now we're asking for directions and we're going to the Road House, right?"

They slowed down, and they saw a young boy who was sitting on a low wall, with a note pad in his hand and an intent look.

"Ehy, you!" Dean said, approaching him. "Can you tell us..."

"Sh!" The boy silenced him without even glancing to them, as he was busy in observing something far off.

Vaguely annoyed, Dean got out of the car going next to him, and Sam imitated him.

"What are you look...?"

"No matter," the boy sighed and finally he turned towards them. His face was tanned, and it was sorrounded by his curly, pale-blonde hair; he couldn't be more than twenty years old. "You already ruined my view."

Dean leaned over to see what the boy was talking about, and he saw a little girl, picking up flowers in a meadow.

"What are you, a pedophile?" Dean asked grimacing in disgust.

The boy started laughing, sincerely amused. "No, of course not!" he exclaimed, and his blue eyes lightened. "I'm just a poet!"

Dean furrowed his brows, puzzled. "You are... what?" He asked, wondering if he had heard that right.

"A poet!" The boy repeated, with a vague smile. "You know, one of those people writing poems. That little girl was perfect for my next work, but..." he sighted again. "Now the atmosphere is gone."

"We're really sorry," Sam said going near to them with an air of confusion similar to his brother's.

"No matter, no matter," the boy said again, shaking an hand with nonchalance.

"So, what can I do to help you?"

"We need some directions," Dean answered like he wanted to ignore the weird development of the conversation. "We need to get to Nebraska City as soon as..."

"Are you brothers?" The boy interrupted him again, looking from one to the other.

"Well, yeah," Dean said looking sincerely impressed. "And congratulations, you're the first one who guessed right at the first attempt."

Sam stopped himself from smiling amused while the boy didn't seem phased, and started laughing again.

"Oh, it was so easy!" He exclaimed right after. "I could see from the way you look at each other."

Dean couldn't be more confused, and he exchanged a furtive look to Sam, raising his eyebrowns, like he was checking; this time the brother couldn't help himself from chuckling.

"So, you need to know how to reach Nebraska City?" The boy asked again as he didn't notice anything, and when the brother nodded, he started to delve into a grey shoulder bag, until he took out a map.

"Ok, look..." he said opening it in front of them, and pointing to a road which seemed to sorround a big forest. "You must take that street, then turn left, go forward, until..."

"But with that road it will take at least two days!" Dean exclaimed, surprised. "There isn't a shorter way? One that go through the wood, for example?"

The boy lifted his eyes toward him and looked at Dean so intently that he felt pretty uncomfortable. "Of course there is," he answered after a few seconds, and he smiled again calmly. "But you can't go inside the forest, obviously."

"Why not?" Sam asked at once, confused.

"Because the forest is bewitched, isn't it?" The young boy answered with an air of incredible calmness.

Dean and Sam exchanged an eloquent look.

"What do you mean by "bewitched"?" Dean asked slowly.

"Well, you can say "cursed", if you want," the boy explained comfortably. He was always smiling, and that thing was starting to annoy the brothers. "Strange things happen to people who go inside it, they disappear, you know. But it's normal. Twenty years ago lot of women died in the forest and the spirit of a woman who died a violent death can always wake up, can't it?"

The brothers were simply astounded. For a long time they just stayed there silently, looking at the smiling face of the boy.

"Well, let's get back to the point, weren't we finding a way to Nebraska?" he asked again looking at them.

"You know what?" Dean said slowly. "No matter. Maybe we'll stay here for a couple of days, what do you think, Sammy?"

The brother nodded, with an half sigh.

"Wonderful!" The boy exclaimed and his smile, if possible, became even bigger. "Well, if you need something, just call me! I'm Ethan Grey, and I live in the house there, near the stream. It was a pleasure!"

"Same here," Dean said with a tone of irony that the boy didn't get. "Well, see you around, Ethan, alright?"

The brothers went in the car again, and they left slowly, toward the village. Sam turned himself to look at the boy, who sat again, observing his notepad with an air of thinking, passing one hand through his blonde hair.

Dean looked at Sam through the mirror of the car.

"Do I have such a _brotherly _look?" He muttered at the end.

Sam laughed, without answering.


	3. Midway upon the journey

**CHAPTER 2 **

**Midway upon the journey**

Dean stopped the car with a roar in the middle of a wide clearing surrounded by a thick tangle of trees and branches weaved between them.

He snorted. Since they took the road that entered the forest the path had started to become more and more narrow, and now it was impossible that something like a car could even squeeze in between that.

"Ok, we'll go on by foot," he said without hiding is air of annoyance.

Sam nodded without adding anything as he went down beside the car and started looking around, while Dean was opening the trunk of the car, which was like always full of weapons of every kind.

"What should we bring?" He asked more to himself than to the brother. It was kind of difficult to choose when you have no idea of what you are going to face.

Sam was still in silence, so Dean shrugged his shoulder and he just took two guns that could always come in handy, making sure he had the right amount of salt and holy water.

"Ehy, Sammy" Dean called, before throwing him one of the two guns. The brother caught it in midair and put it into his pocket, distracted. He seemed to be engrossed with something.

"Ehy, what's up? Have you seen something?" Dean asked frowning his eyebrows were turned down with concern.

"I've got the feeling that somebody is watching us," Sam muttered approaching him; as he turned toward the brother, he saw someone standing up behind Dean and started.

Dean twirled and he gave a start too. Right in front of him, there was a very young girl with long, curly and black hair that dropped along her shoulder, almost down to her waist.

She had a very pale complexion, nearly white, and big dark eyes that were looking at him so closely that she seemed to be not even blinking.

"Ahem... hi" Dean started confused. In spite of all, she seemed harmless and he didn't want to scare her. "What are you doing here all alone? Ehy, don't look us like that, we're not going to hurt you".

The girl looked at the guns that they both had in hand then she glanced again at Dean, raising her eyebrow in suspicion. Dean cleared his throat embarrassed.

" Those? They are just out of prevention, you know... if you met something dangerous," he tried to explain.

Sam approached them looking carefully at the girl who at once turned her head toward him, and she seemed to inspecting him with her eyes for how closely she was watching him.

"Is everything all right? Something happened to you?" he asked worried. There was something indecipherable in her black eyes. It was not fear, but something different, with a touch of determination, too.

The girl shook her head with a slow movement, without moving her look away from him not even for one moment. Sam couldn't do anything but remaining there, puzzled.

"Listen, is there something you want to tell us? Have you seen something, maybe?" Dean asked again, without keeping an air of impatience.

But the girl was still looking at the brother. With a gesture just as slow as the previous one, she pointed at Sam, then at Dean, then at her chest, and then at the trees behind her.

"I can't understand... what are you trying to say?" Sam asked, confused.

The girl repeated exactly the same movement; she pointed at the brothers, at herself, and at the forest behind.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Sam tried again, hesitating.

She nodded, then she turned herself and she started to slowly walk; at every step, the long white dress that she wore waved, moved by the wind.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look then they were quick in following her, along a path almost totally hidden by the wind and the grass that they would never have been able to find by themselves.

Dean couldn't help himself from asking all the questions he had in mind. "Where are we going? There's something you want to show us?" he asked but the girl was silent and she kept looking in front of her, as if she wasn't listening.

Just one or two times she stopped herself turning toward him and looking at him and in those moments Dean gripped the gun that he still had in his pocket. There was something that didn't quite fit.

After a few minutes of walking, the girl drew aside with her white hands some branches of ivy that were hiding a little glade, where right in the middle there was a wooden house.

They went near; even if it was very ruined –the glass of the windows was broken and the wood was splintered nearly everywhere- it had an air of welcome and brightness.

The girl leaded them until the door that she opened, gesturing for them to enter.

Dean obeyed at once while Sam hesitated, "Are you sure? Do you want us to come in?" He asked.

The young girl looked at him with her intense stare and it seemed like her eyes sparkled for a moment. Stunned, he entered.

Inside, the house was like a little Eden. There was just one room with an old bed in a corner, a set table in the middle, and a little kitchen on the opposite side from them.

The girl preceded them and she moved two chairs from the table, gesturing for them to sit down, while she went to the kitchen where in a copper casserole, some water was boiling.

Dean sat down, observing her while she added some strange herbs into the pot, and mixing with a wooden spoon.

Sam, at the contrary, took advantage of her inattention to have a look at the house, which was tidy and well kept. Right under one of the windows, there was a little shelter with a few books. One of them was uneven with the rest as if it had been used not long before.

He had a quick look at that while Dean was still making questions that remained without answers.

"Right, you're not a chatterbox girl, are you?" He gave up at the end almost exhausted for his useless questioning; looking at Sam who dropped what he was doing to go sit next to him.

The girl had just finished. She took two cups from one of the shelves and she filled them with a greenish liquid; and as she put them on a tray. Dean muttered, "I won't drink that stuff, what if it's poisoned?"

The girl heard him; she whirled round toward Dean who shut up awkwardly. She laid the tray on the table in front of them. She took a bit of the beverage with the spoon and she drank slowly, looking Dean in the eye the whole time.

When she finished she sat in front of them still silent. Dean and Sam cleared thier throat and they took their cups at the same moment, tasting the contents. It was bitter, but it wasn't bad, at all; it slid down the throat with a pleasant feeling of warmth.

"Thanks," Sam said dubious, and for the first time on the girl's face came out a little smile. Encouraged from his success, he went on. "Why did you bring us here? Is there something we can do for you?" He asked.

The girl was still glancing at them and something, in her eyes was changing. Now there was something like reverential awe, a strong decision and, maybe a dumb help request in her eyes.

Sam saw all those things and for a moment the impotence in front of her silence was about to drive him mad. He sat the cup on the table and he tried again, conciliatory, "What's your name? I'm Sam, and he's my brother, Dean. I'd like to know your name".

She looked at him for a long time than she shook her head.

"You don't want to say it to me? Or you just can't?" Sam insisted. The girl shook again her head. It seemed like it was the only thing she could do and for a moment Sam wonder if she could even understand his words. Now the girl wasn't look at him anymore. She was observing Dean, who just finished to drink form the cup and leaned it on the table, lifted his eyes toward her.

"Listen," Dean said with decision, at the end. "Here, in this forest, something happened. Deaths. Do you know something? Can you tell us something?"

For a long time she did nothing but looking at him. The brothers both waited patiently because it seemed like the girl was hardly thinking. Finally, she stood up; she approached one of the windows, where there were some small pots of flowers.

She picked up a yellow one from them, she turned, and she slowly laid the flower on Sam's open hand.

"What does it mean? What are you trying to say?" Sam asked observing it surprised, but the girl crossed her arms and glance at him silently.

"Do you want us to go?" Dean said; he was starting to find annoying to just stay there without get nothing done.

After a few seconds, the girl nodded. Dean didn't need to be told twice and he stood up, going to the door. Sam was doing the same, but he changed his mind and he stopped himself, looking at her.

"We're going to come again," he muttered, insecure. "If you... need us. We'll come again".

On the white face of the girl was the first, true smile, while her black eyes sparkled again, and she tilted her head, like she wanted to look at him better as he went out and vanished in the forest.


	4. Legends for hire

**CHAPTER 3 **

**Legends for hire**

Ethan's house rose up exactly where he told them, but maybe 'rising' wasn't the right verb. As a matter of fact, the building was really little, and made in a wood that perfectly camouflaged it with the forest behind. If it weren't for the bright, red roof, Dean and Sam wouldn't even have noticed it.

They parked in the field next to the stream, and the contrast with the Impala and the landscape surrounding them almost made them dizzy. The little house, the bright green meadow and the gurgling of the water; they felt like they had been thrown in some weird fairy tale they had nothing to do with.

"We lack just a pair of songbirds, don't we?" Dean asked sarcastically looking around. "Come on".

They approached the house and knocked. At the third time, a female voice from the inside answered: "Here I come!" and shortly after, a young girl opened the door.

She must be as old as them; she had long blond hair, gathered up in a messy way with locks that fell everywhere behind her nape. Her eyes were of a light blue, very big, and it seemed they were reviewing the two boys.

"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling.

"Actually, we were looking for a boy" Dean answered peeking at the inside. "A certain... Edward... Evan... does he live here?"

"Ethan?" the girl corrected him, amused. "He's not at home, now. I'm her sister, Leanne," She introduced herself, holding her hand out.

"We didn't know he had a sister," Sam said shaking his with her.

Leanne laughed. "I'm not surprised, Ethan has his head in the clouds, I'm not sure he know that, too!" she said, cheerfully, and Dean grinned a little.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Sam asked.

"Too bad for you, I'm afraid he will be out all the day," she answered shrugging her shoulders. "Can I do something? What did you want to know?"

"Just... just ask him some questions, this morning he told us really interesting stories, when we met," Dean said hesitating.

"Did he tell you he was a poet?" Leanne asked at once, skeptical.

"Yeah, he did," Sam admitted and she started laughing again.

"I would have been surprised, if he didn't! Did you read something he wrote?" she asked again, raising her eyebrow.

Dean shook his head. "Thank Goodness!" Leanne said smiling happily. "Come on, enter!"

The inside of the house was totally different from the outside; it was chaotic and untidy like every New York apartment. The room was little but full of stuff: books, clothes and pans were equally scattered on the shelves, on the chairs, and on the table in the middle.

"Sorry about the mess," Leanne said fixing her hair for the umpteenth time. "I'm studying for an exam and there's no way Ethan tidies up! Make yourselves at home," She added clearing out two chairs which were buried under sheets of paper.

Dean and Sam were quick at sitting down while the girl kept going back and forth through the house, trying to make a bit of room for them.

"So, what did you need to know from my brother?" Leanne said, while she cleared a stool from a layer of clothes and she sat in front of them.

The brothers exchanged a look before speaking.

"Well, this morning Ethan told us something about the forest here," Sam started looking at her reaction.

Leanne started laughing again. "Oh, don't tell me he told you it's bewitched!"

"You guessed right," Dean answered with a grin.

"Well, that's all fiction! He keeps telling the world about it, but there's nothing to worry about, I assure you," she explained calmly.

"Ethan said that some girls died there," Sam insisted.

The smile vanished from Leanne's face. "Well, that's true," she answered, seriously. "Fifteen girls died in four months or less... a real massacre. But it happened like twenty years ago, and since then nothing more happened."

"But what really happened at those times?" Dean asked again glancing at her.

Leanne turned toward him, frowning. "How am I supposed to know? When it happened I was five, and Ethan was one year old!"

"So why he's so interested in this story?" Sam asked, confused.

The girl sighed. "It's our father's fault. He told him all that stories about the forest, the ghosts, and the monsters... for amusement. But Ethan really believed in what he said. He has always seen dad like an idol, or something. That's why he wanted to be a poet, you know? To imitate him."

"Ah, even your father is a poet?" Dean asked, trying to ignore the strange feeling he felt, like something bigger than that was kinking in his stomach.

"He was a poet," Leanne corrected him. She wasn't smiling anymore, but she didn't look so upset, too.

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"It was a long time ago," she answered shrugging her shoulders. "And Ethan and me were already used to living alone. Dad used to travel a lot, you know... to find his inspiration, he said."

"I understand," Dean answered and he felt a lump in his throat that stopped him from saying something else.

For a moment, it was silence. Leanne was distracted, like she was thinking over something, and Dean didn't know how to cut in. Finally, Sam interrupted the silence.

"Leanne, is that book yours?" He asked, reaching his hand out for taking one from a dusty shelf.

She looked surprised from the question. "Yeah, sure. Why?" she asked frowning her eyebrows, puzzled.

"Oh, ahem... It seemed to me that I already saw it somewhere," Sam vaguely answered.

"Are you sure? I thought it was a limited edition," Leanne said astonished and confused at the same time.

"Really? Where did you get it?" Sam kept going on while Dean looked at him, as perplexed as the girl.

"Our father gave it to us," she answered, always more doubtful.

"Both to you and Ethan, then?" Sam insisted.

"Yeah, a book per head... some days before dying. I don't know where's Ethan's copy is," Leanne commented.

"May I have look?" Sam asked, already observing the cover.

"You can even keep it, if you want," the girl answered and at once her voice was scornful. "I never opened it".

"Why?" Dean asked, surprised.

Leanne shrugged her shoulders. "I always have so much to study," she said vaguely, standing up. "Well, Ethan will not be here before tomorrow, and I've nothing more to tell you, so..."

Dean and Sam understood at once that it was better for them to pack up and leave.


	5. In case of fortune

**CHAPTER 4**

**In case of fortune**

They just went out from the house, when Dean turned towards his brother, looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed asking, "So, now can you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Sam answered absently.

"That book! What is that? Why is so special?" Dean asked again exasperated.

Sam shifted from hand to hand, going over it. "Oh, it's just a book about Greek mythology," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"You don't say!" Dean replied sarcastically. "So what? Why did you take it, did you want something to read before going to sleep?"

"No, not at all," Sam stopped himself next to the Impala and he finally raised his eyes to the brother. "Dean, there was exactly the same book in the house of that girl, in the forest".

His brother looked at him, surprised. "Really?"

"You should have noticed it," Sam commented almost reproachful.

"Who knows, probably I was too busy in chatting" Dean replied, ironically. "So?"

"Do you remember the flower the girl gave to me? It was a narcissus," the brother kept going on, apparently too absorbed in his thoughts to follow the thread of the conversation.

"Right, mister botanist, so what?" Dean was about to lose his patience.

"So, in that girl's house, the book was opened exactly at the page with Narcissus's story!" Sam finally explained.

Dean's only answer was to raise his eyebrows, skeptical.

"I know what you're about to say, but it can't be a coincidence, Dean!" his brother exclaimed.

"Of course it can!" the other one replied, incredulous. "And also, what can that have to do with the case?"

"Do you even know the story of Echo and Narcissus?" Sam asked, crossing his arms in that know-it-all way that really gets on Dean's nerves.

"Well, not the details, but..." Dean started, but his brother interrupted him.

"Before falling in love, unrequited, with Narcissus, a young boy who just loved his own beauty, Echo was a Nymph of the mountains who used to talk too much, and for that Hera took away her voice." Sam looked at him. "She made her mute, Dean!"

The brother looked at him simply astonished, and then he grinned. "Come on, Sammy, don't tell me you really believe that..."

"What if that girl was trying to make me understand what happened to her?" Sam insisted. "What if the flower was a hint to know something more about her?"

"What, that she's a Nymph, that a damned Goddess stole her voce, or that she fell in love with a gay?" Dean went on, without stopping himself from grinning.

"I don't know but it's something!" Sam answered, clearly disappointed from his brother's reaction. "Why did she give me that flower?"

"Maybe she thought you're cute," Dean commented, sneering, and when he saw that the brother was about to reply again, he talked again. "Right, sorry for you, but latest news: Nymphs doesn't exist, Hera neither so, or either that flower was an unexpressed declaration of love, or she's just a dumb girl with marginalization complex!"

Sam shook his head, obstinate. "Listen, Dean..."

"You know what I think?" Dean interrupted him again. "We're just wasting our time here. Maybe twenty years ago all those people died, but now there's really nothing dangerous in that forest, and instead of being here listening to that girl's ravings, we should jump in the car, going away from here and get to the Road House!"

"Give me just one day!" Sam insisted, but the other one raised his eyebrows, mocking. "Please, Dean! Just another day. I want to understand what's going on here".

Sam was glancing at him in his usual way, with his air of determination and begging, and Dean couldn't do anything but snorting, exasperated.

"Right," he said, without looking at him, going in the car.

"And now where are you going?" Sam asked, surprised.

"To the police station. I want to know something more about those deaths. Do you come?" he said, nodding to the seat next to him.

"No, I... I'll go to that girl's house, in the forest" Sam answered, hesitating. "Maybe she will tell me something".

"Yeah, and maybe unicorns fly in the rainbows valley," Dean replied, sarcastically. "Well, good for you!"

He stepped on the accelerator, and the Impala went away with a roar: for a moment Sam stayed there, looking at the shape vanishing on the horizon, then he shrugged his shoulders and walked into the forest.

The path was always more matted; he was heading for a fall over a root, and he grabbed on to a branch. Doing that, Leanne's book fell on the ground, opening with a tumble.

Sam looked at the book, and he noticed surprised something that seemed to spill over from the pages. He bent down to take it.

"And what is that?"


	6. Trick and troubles

**Chapter 5**

**Tricks and troubles**

"'_Tall tales'?'_" the man in front of him asked, with an air of surprise.

Dean showed the most convincing smile he could regretting not having found a better title, and holding his hand he explained easy, "It's a column, Sergeant. For my newspaper, you know".

"Sheriff," he corrected him and after a moment's hesitation he shook his plump hands with him. "A journalist, then? Well, it's not every day that a journalist come around here. Come on, make yourself at home."

Dean followed him inside a little office, that didn't seem as much a headquarter, but rather and old-style living room, with his dark-brown wooden furnitures, doilies and frame everywhere.

Sheriff Mayer was a middle-aged man and everything of him from his belly, his big mustache to his ruddy face made Dean understand he was a well-tempered person, peaceful and not very keen on action. The sheriff sat on an armchair and pointed Dean another one.

"So, boy, what does exactly interest you?" He asked, pleased.

"Ahem... mystery, you know. Strange things that happen in the world," Dean answered in such a convinced tone that the sheriff couldn't help chuckling.

"Well, I think you're looking in the wrong place," he said crossing his arms on his desk with a sorry smile. "Nothing ever happens here. It's a quiet town, we are happy people, and we fend for ourselves".

"I noticed that," Dean commented with a point of sarcasm that luckily the sheriff didn't hear. "But they told me that some time ago, a really strange thing happened here, and nobody knows the truth".

Sheriff Mayer frowned, puzzled. "No, not as far as I know".

For a moment, Dean didn't know what to say. "So it's not true that, twenty years ago, fifteen girls died?"

"Oh, _that thing_!" The sheriff said, and he seemed to get nervous. "Yes, it's true. A really nasty business, really nasty... but there was no truth to discover."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, without understanding.

Mayer dried off the sweat of his brow. "Well everyone though it was a serial killer, didn't they? But that wasn't such a thing. Those girls committed suicide".

"All of them?" Dean said opening wide his eyes, astonished.

"Exactly," the sheriff answered blinking. All in a sudden, it seemed like he lost his self-control. "One after the other. They ran away from home, and after a couple of days they killed themselves in the forest."

"In which way?" Dean cautiously asked and he couldn't blame Mayer for looking at him, surprised for the question.

"Different ways, you know," he said, passing his hand under his plump neck, uncomfortably. "They poisoned themself, or they hung themselves, or they used a dagger. One of them tied herself to a stone and she fell in the torrent."

"I understand," Dean muttered. "And there were no bond between the victims? I mean, they had something in common?"

"To be sincere, yes," the sheriff said. "They were all young mothers, who gave birth to their babies since a little while, at the latest, a month. Try to guess what kind of tragedy it was for those poor little children..."

He was about to move into the tears and that was, for Dean, a clear indication that it was time to go; he didn't want to have to cheer up a big baby who was three times bigger than him.

He stood up, and he was going out when something came in his mind.

"Sheriff," he started, hesitating. "Mister Grey had something to do with this story?"

"Mister Geoffrey Grey? Ethan and Leanne's father?" Mayer asked, surprised. "Well, we can say yes. His wife, Charlotte, was the first of the suicidal girls."

Something heavy seemed to move in Dean's stomach. So those two, Ethan and Leanne, became orphans in a few years. Their family was reduced at the number of two. And they were going on, together, and alone.

He tried, or better he ordered himself to not think about it. He nodded, he shook his hand with the sheriff another time, and he reached his car in a few steps. He was about to go in the forest, to find out where Sam was, but he changed his mind in half-way.

It was time to give a deeper look to Grey's.


	7. Photoshop

**Chapter 6**

**Photoshop**

Dean was patiently waiting, hidden by the trees of the forest, until he saw the door of the house opening, and Leanne going out. She seemed to be pretty busy: she brought a shoulder bag and a couple of books. Walking hurriedly, she took the path towards the village.

When the girl was completely vanished on the horizon, Dean finally went out from his hideout, and he reached the house. He took out an all-purpose knife, thinking how to break the lock without doing too much damage to the door, but he found that the door was already opened.

Astonished, and wondering if Greys have ever heard of thieves or criminals, he pushed it opened and entered.

The room was exactly the same as that morning, and he walked slowly, trying to not trample on anything, or make the objects piled up everywhere fall.

He approached the shelves, that were full of books, mostly novels of every kind, and then he went to the kitchen. It was messy, in the usual disorder of guys with no adult control: vacuum cans and pizza cartons on the floor, together with the wrappers of precooked food, while all the pans where in a corner, useless.

More or less the same kind of disorder that Sam and him left everywhere they stay for more than a day, Dean casually noticed, and he got surprised by his thoughts.

On the big table, in the middle of the room, some books were opened, and they were all underlined and scribbled down in pencil. He approached them to read the titles: they were all university texts. As far as it seemed, Leanne was studying law.

Once again, Dean felt a strange sensation which was impossible to define. It wasn't envy, because, how can he envy something boring like university life? It was more like a vague curiosity for something he knew he would never have, something he lost from the beginning.

He shook his head, wondering what the hell was happening to him, then he moved away, seeing a little door on the right, almost invisible, for it was of the same color of the wall. He opened it slowly and he found himself in the brother's bedroom.

Even if Leanne complained about the disorder of her brother, that morning, Dean didn't have difficulty in recognizing that the messiest corner, the one on the right, was the girl's.

Her bed was untidy, and it was probably used as a desk, too, because there were piled up sheets of papers, pens and even more books. Dean was starting to wonder how many books there were, in such a little house.

On the contrary, on the left, Ethan's corner was really better. He had less things than his sister, an opened notepad, with a pen on it, and three or four books on a shelf.

But the thing that surprised Dean was the wall next to the bed. He approached more, and he noticed that it was made of a huge number of sheets of paper, photos and newspapers. It was similar to their walls, when they were working on a case, but the only difference was that there weren't monsters, missing people or maps.

There were poems, sentences and family photos.

Dean's breath seemed to slowed down on his own initiative. He reached out his hand to take one from the wall, looking at it.

The photo showed two blond children, picked up by a pale woman, who looked surprisingly alike Leanne. Next to her, a man with dark hair had his arm around her waist, smiling. Dean turned the photo. An elegant handwriting wrote: _Me, Charlotte, Leanne and Ethan, 1996._

Dean put it away, feeling a lump in his throat. Trying to distract himself, he glanced at the poems all around, almost without seeing them, reading random words which said nothing. He noticed that all of them had the same signature: _G. G._

And then, a bit upper, there were another photo of the woman. Dean couldn't help himself from taking that, too, and he had a close look at it. Yes, the mother and the children were as like as two peas in a pod: she had long hair of the exactly same blonde as Leanne, and the same big, blue eyes, of Ethan. She was smiling, looking down.

It took a few second to Dean to understand that Charlotte was clearly pregnant, and she was looking and caressing her belly, with a tender gesture.

Feeling his mouth strangely dry, he turned the photo. This time there were no names or dates, just a poem, written by the same elegant handwriting as before.

_The smiling maid, take and shake_

_Her long sun-coloured hair_

_Black eyes winking the darkness_

_And sweetly she whispers, sweetly she asks_

_Running from all, in the middle of nothing._

Dean found himself reading it over and over again. There were something that didn't quite fit in that, but he just couldn't find it. At the end, he gave up and he attached it on the wall, together with the other photos. He was about to go away, then he turned again, to look at Charlotte's face once again. And he suddenly understood.

He thought of calling Sam, and his hand was already in his jacket, looking for his mobile, when he heard Ethan's voice calling: "Leanne? Leanne, are you at home?"

Dean was caught unaware, because he did the most stupid thing he could do: he went out from the bedroom, and he found himself in the middle of the living room, in front the surprised look of Ethan, caught red-handed in his housebreaking.

However, after the first moment of astonishment, the boy showed a wide smile, and he exclaimed: "You are really back, then!"

He rushed to Dean, shaking his hand, excited, like he didn't notice than an almost complete stranger was alone in his house. "I'm so happy to see you again!" Ethan said, and his eyes were shining with something that Dean recognized as true delight. "I never thought I would see you again... guess what? This morning, after your brother and you went away, I started to compose a poem about how we met!"

"Wh-what?" Dean asked, amazed, going away from the boy's grip.

Ethan started laughing. "Yeah, but I had to stop at once because, you know? I forgot to ask you your names, so I didn't how what to write in the inscription!"

Dean avoided himself commenting, and Ethan's smile became even bigger while he asked: "So? Who are you?"

"I am Dean" he answered, totally shocked from the nonsense of that situation. "And my brother is Sam".

"Dean and Sam..." the young boy whispered, ravished. After a couple of seconds, anyway, he seemed to come back on the Earth and he added: "So, can I do something for you?"

"Ahem... yeah, to be sincere," Dean said, glad that the conversation was coming back to a more understandable level. "This morning when you told us about that forest, you really got me curious. "You said you believe there's some kind of ghost, in it?"

"I don't believe anything" Ethan smiled, and his blue eyes sparkled again. "I know for certain that in this wood there's a kind of... presence".

"Presence?" Dean repeated, frowning.

"A kind of spirit. A non-human entity, of which we can barely imagine the power" the boy explained, and his look got lost above the landscape over the window. "Something nobody has ever seen... something nobody can understand".

"If someone's never seen it, and we can't imagine it, how can you know it exist?" Dean asked, sharply.

Ethan turned again toward him and a big smile shone on his face again. "It was my dad! He told me everything of that he knew... he always had knew it all. He was the best".

Something seemed to lace into Dean's throat, keeping him from talking, but luckily Ethan was too busy in taking a sheet of paper from the wall to notice it.

"He wrote poems" he was explaining. "And he put in his poems everything he thought. 'Always write about the truth' he told me. 'Write what you want the people to know'".

"And he told you about the... spirit in the forest in one of his poems?" Dean asked, finding his voice and, at the same time, trying to follow the logical thread of the conversation, if there were one.

"We poets can see what normal people ignore" Ethan said as an answer. He finally chose one of the papers from the wall, and he gave it to Dean. "Right, read it". Dean looked at it. The poem's title was "Calling".

_Slippery voice without an essence _

_Confused shape, unknown presence _

_I invoke for your name on the tree's gate _

_Come take again, your human shape._

Dean gave him back the paper, speechless. Ethan seemed to be satisfied by his silence, and he put it in its place, without stopping himself from smiling.

"Did you see? My father believed there were something in that forest" he explained, thrilled. "Something with a huge power, that it can use at his pleasure of himself and of others. Something impossible to see... to perceive".

Dean was simply puzzled. The poem's words kept coming in his mind over and over again, and every time they had a new meaning, until he felt all the pieces going in the right place.

"Ethan..." he asked, slowly. "That creature isn't the only thing living in the forest, is it? There is something else... or better, someone else. Someone who stay all alone in the middle of the wood."

For the first time, Ethan's smile seemed to waver, and then it vanished. The boy lifted his look toward Dean, confused, and he asked: "How can you know about Sedra?"


	8. Missing pieces

**CHAPTER 7**

**MISSING PIECES**

"Sedra, right? Is that your name?" Sam asked, hesitating.

The girl, sitting right in front of him, eyes opened wide her, surprised. She slowly nodded, without ever gazing from him.

Sam smiled, trying to seem the more reassuring he could. "You want to know how I found it out?" he asked. "Actually, I did guess. It's a long story. Do you want me to tell you? I know you love stories... and then, I need your help to fill some things in."

Sedra nodded again. She looked vaguely interested, but a vein of concern could clearly be seen through her eyes.

"Everything started with this book," Sam explained, drawing out from his jacket the one he took at Leanne's house and leaning it on the table. The girl seemed even more surprised. "You have one like that, don't you? I saw it the first time I came here."

Sam started to flip through the pages. "I took it to read something more about Narcissus... it was a narcissus, the flower you gave me last time, wasn't it? And look what I found inside it."

Right between the pages who concerned Echo's myth, there was hidden a little book, or better, something like an old brochure which couldn't have more than five pages altogether.

The leather binding was really ancient, a dark brown, but on the cover it was possible to clearly read the word 'Sedra'.

"I was wondering what it could mean," Sam went on, looking at the girl, who was following her finger over the golden type of the title, evidently recognizing her name.

"Then I thought it could be your name. I don't know why... so, I guessed right?" Sedra smiled a little. She was apparently relaxing little by little, and she no longer had that strict attitude of the first time they met. She was bent towards him, and she reached out her hand to open the book.

"Are you curious to know what there's written inside?" Sam asked as he took the book to flip the pages, the girl instantly took away her hand. "It's a poem book. Or at least, it seems. They're so weird poems... they look like riddles. That's why I would like you to help me understand."

Sedra became serious, again. She brought both her hands on her throat, than she shook the head.

"I know you can't talk," Sam answered. "But we can do this anyway, I promise you. See how we get to understand each other, even now."

She didn't look really convinced, and she downed her head, sadly.

"Sedra... I need your help. Really, I wouldn't ask you, if it weren't so important," Sam insisted. "Please. I really need to know what's happening and what happened here."

They looked at each other for a long time, and after a few seconds, that seemed to be years, the girl smiled again, and she nodded. Sam tried to returned the smile, but he was too busy in all the thoughts that seemed about to explode in his head. He didn't forget to have just one day to solve the case... and he still had a long way to go.

"Right," he started, hesitating. He opened the little book, pointing to the first poem.

_She's silently_

_Extraneous to the_

_Dreamy and sweet_

_Recalling_

_Allure_

"What could it be about?" Sam asked, lifting his head towards the girl, hoping she had some king of brilliant idea, and he noticed with surprise that she was smiling even wider.

She reached out her hand and she ran her finger down the text of the poem, up and down, again and again.

Sam frowned, confused. "What are you trying... what do you want me to understand?" he asked, puzzled, following her movement. "That's the poem, right? And... Wait!" He stopped himself all of a sudden. "You're pointing me just the initials! The first letter of each line... S... E... D... but that's your name! Sedra!"

The girl laughed, like she was amused of his enthusiasm. Sam smiled too, while everything was becoming clearer in his mind.

"Wait... so that isn't a poem... it's an acrostic! With your name! So it talks about you, doesn't it? It's about you!" He went on, euphoric. «Why didn't I think about that before! "_She's silently_"... that's obvious, you can not talk... and then? "_Extraneous to the_ _dreamy and sweet recalling allure_"_. _The sweet allure... sweet... recalling allure... what is that, Sedra?"

She seemed to be thinking over it for a few seconds, that she took the mythology book from Sam's hands and she started going frantically through the pages. After a moment, she opened it in front of him, pointing at a picture in which a mermaid was captivating a young sailor by her voice.

"A mermaid? The sweet allure of a mermaid... singing!" Sam exclaimed, and Sedra nodded, excited. "So you are... extraneous to the singing, cause you can't sing? Something like?"

This time, Sedra didn't make any gesture, not her assent nor her denial: she just turned the page of the little book, pointing the following poem. Sam read it in a loud voice:

"_Faithful refuge for the_

_Opposite lovers, who_

_Rest and lie, as they_

_Eagerly love and fight; their_

_Sighs forever kept_

_Throughout the wood."_

He stopped himself for a moment, trying to reflect. "So it's... it's also an acrostic? F...O... R... E... Forest! But what does it mean, Sedra?" he glanced at her. "_Opposite lovers... sighs... _what if...?"

The girl was silent again, and she just went through the pages until she reached the last one, pointing the poem. Sam understood he had to read that one, and he couldn't do nothing but obey.

_Nothing will never_

_Obstruct her insane_

_Violent desire of an_

_Amourous tie;_

_Eros, and his insatiable_

_Cupidity, cry out for_

_Her whim, impetuosly_

_Ordering Love._

Sam lifted again his head, more confused than ever. "Sedra, what is that about? Who is 'her'?" he slowly asked.

The girl ran again her finger through the page, slowly, without taking her eyes off him; he rushed to looking at the initials.

"No...v...ae...ch...o," he read, without understanding. "Novaecho... No... Hold on a second, that's Latin! Nova... Nova Echo! The New Echo, isn't it?"

Sedra nodded. She wasn't smiling anymore; rather she seemed to be terribly serious, while she averted her eyes from the book, looking away.

Sam was thinking so hard that problably his brain was about to explode at any moment.

"The new Echo... that means that there was somebody... some girl who had the same story as Echo? Who loved, without being returned? And she destroyed herself with her pain?"

Sedra shook her head, glancing intently to him, like she was trying to make him understand something just through her eyes.

"No? So her story is not entirely the same?" Sam asked as she nodded. "What did it change? How it ended? What happened to new Echo? She didn't give up?"

The girl nodded, and her look became so intense that he risked to lost himself in it, like he got hypnotized.

"What did she do in order to conquer her Narcissus, Sedra? What did she do?" Sam asked again, and his voice trembled a little.

Sedra stayed in silent for a moment, like she was thinking, then she made a weird gesture. She brought both her hands in front of her, moving gently the fingers, then she put them on her opened mouth.

Sam frowned. "What are you...?"

Sedra repeated the movement, slowly, looking at him, eager to make herself understood. But he felt like his brain suddenly turned off, and he gave up.

"I'm sorry," he said, depressed. "Sorry, I really can't understand."

In that exact moment, his phone rang.


	9. Honey and bees

**CHAPTER 8**

**HONEY AND BEES**

"Sam, it's me. We need to talk."

"Yeah, I know. I'm on my way there."

Dean heard the brother's voice coming from the other side of the phone; with an half sigh, he put it in his pocket, then he lifted his eyes towards Ethan, who was looking at him with an air of curiosity, his head angled sideways.

"Sam will be here very soon. Probably, he'll have some question for you, too," he said, in a voice that he wished to be intimidating, without any success. That guy was so weird that he felt quite uncomfortable.

"Really?" Ethan just asked, with a sincere interest. "And about what?"

"About that girl, Sandra, Sera, or how the hell she's called!" Dean replied: he was two steps away from losing his patience.

"Oh, Sedra!" The boy peacefully corrected him. "Why are you so interested in her?"

"I don't know, Ethan, why don't you tell me?" Dean said, as an answer. "What's wrong with her? Why did you try to keep us away from her, telling us all that crap about the bewitched forest?"

"They weren't lies!" the boy replied, indignant. "It was the truth! Strange things really happened in that wood!"

"Really?" Dean repeated, amazed.

"Yeah." Ethan was almost angry for the lack of trust in his words, and he crossed his arms on his chest.

"And... what kind of things?" Dean cautiously asked, gazing at him.

For a moment, it seemed that Ethan was deciding if answering him or not, but he clearly wasn't the kind of person who stays silent in a fit of pique, so he smiled and said: "Well, it's not easy to explain. It's quite weird."

"Try me," Dean said, seriously persuaded that nothing could be stranger than the things he saw every freaking day.

Ethan seemed to concentrate intently on the right words to use. "Well, you know... when a man and a woman go in that forest... they... they like stay together and..." he stopped himself for a second, like struck from a sudden inspiration. "Ok, let's pretend you have a bee and a flower, and they..."

"I know what bees do!" Dean interrupted him, indignant. "I mean, people. But why?"

"I believe," the boy started talking, and again his face seemed to lighten up, so much he was radiant. "that the same spirit that years ago killed all that young ladies, now it's repented, and he's trying to remedy, inspiring the couples who reach him with the desire of laying together in the fertile ground of the forest!"

That was too much, even for Dean. While he was realizing that it was probably the most absurd, stupid and meaningless thing he ever heard, he prepared his usual keen and sarcastic answer, but he suddenly stopped himself when he noticed the boy's expression.

He was still smiling, and for the umpteenth time, it seemed his eyes shined with delight.

His blue eyes, so alike Charlotte's and for the first time, Dean understood what it did mean.

"Ethan...?" Dean started to talk, his voice strangely hoarse, without knowing how to go on.

"Yes?" he answered, calmly, without stopping from smiling.

The spirit Ethan was blathering about killed his own mother, inducing her to commit suicide. That spirit made him orphan, and alone. How could Ethan speak so kindly of him? With all that calm, like it was an old friend? If Dean were him, he would have...

He obviously stopped his argument. He wasn't interested in investigate deeper the question. But the problem was still there.

It was almost enervating to see that boy who seemed to not be touched by anything, not even the death of his mother! Everything was really so wonderful, through his eyes? Like nothing bad ever happened to him... But he lost his parents, damnit! How could he be so quiet?

Dean looked at him once more. Ethan was still waiting for a question that seemed to be quite improbable.

"No matter," Dean muttered, lowing his head, and he let himself fall on one of the chairs randomly scattered in the room.

"Right!" Ethan commented, shrugging his shoulders. "You said Sam is coming?"

"What...? Oh, yeah, he is" Dean distracted answered, looking at his watch. "He shouldn't be late."

"Late..." Ethan repeated by himself, and he seemed to woke up suddenly, like after a cold shower. "Late! I promised Sedra to visit her this afternoon, I told her..."

He looked terrified by the idea of failing to keep his promise. He stood up, he grabbed his bag, putting a few books inside it, and he stopped himself a couple of centimeters from the door, looking again at him.

"I'm so sorry, Dean!" he said, and he was evidently disconsolate. "I won't be late... can you wait for me here? And Sam, too? It won't take more than an hour, I assure you!"

"Ok, right," Dean said, astonished from such a great worrying.

"Perfect!" Ethan exclaimed, and a wide smile lighted his face. "See you later, than!"

The boy opened the door and he rushed out, almost running over Sam, who was just entering. Ethan lifted his head, smiled his sorry, than he waved his and ran away, along the meadow that was getting darker and darker, as the evening came.

Dean couldn't help from laughing, and Sam smiled too, amused.

"So, what did you have to tell me?" he asked right after, sitting down on a chair in front of him. "Did you find out something new about the forest?"

"Yeah." Dean grinned. "And first of all, I don't want to go back there with you. Not alone, at least."


End file.
